Armistice
by Tesdinic
Summary: There is no such thing as a perfect marriage, especially not when Howl is involved. However, marital problems seem to have led to Sophie's departure, and now it's Howl's turn to try and rescue her heart. Set years after the end of Howl's Moving Castle.
1. It's Been A While, Indeed

He was glad it was raining for once. After all, with the sky of Porthaven as ominously dark as it could ever be, less people would dare leave their houses, therefore even less people would bother knocking on his door in search for ingredients and various spells. While, for the most part, the items in demand were easy to provide, others, such as invisibility spells, would be extremely time-consuming and require a lot of the wizard's time and effort. Time and effort which he would often wish he could be spending doing something far more pleasurable and not so dull.

Like spoiling his ever so lovely wife, for example.

Oh, the things he would do to be with her instead of sitting on that old wooden stool, barely focusing on the preparation of _yet another_ anti-acne potion for _yet another _desperate pubescent costumer. Not like she openly complained about his abscence, but still; things between the both of them had been quite difficult since the day he decided to open the shop, and he was aware that he was the only one to blame for that. Putting an end to the business, however, wasn't an option. Not now, at least. It was their only source of income ever since the Cesari's went bankrupt and, if he didn't want to be kicked out of his house yet again, now with a wife and a soon-to-be-born child, the least he could do would be to prepare as many anti-acne potions as he had to and don't ever complain about it.

_I can't expect to sleep on a wizard's doorstep and have him be kind enough to lend me a room a second time_, Michael Fisher thought miserably, rubbing his eyes and making an inhuman effort not to yawn over the ingredients and ruin the whole mixture. _Oh, come on, Michael_, he added mentally, lightly shaking a small bottle labeled as "DRY WARTS". _It's not time to feel sorry for yourself._ He let some of the powder inside of the bottle drop into the vial before him, and the anti-acne potion bubbled in response. It just had to sit for a while, and then it would be finally ready to deliver.

Michael dragged a palm down his face, looking more tired than ever. He figured it was a good time to take a rest and possibly even a well-deserved nap, and that was what he intended to do when he stood up to leave the vial by the window, where it would brew properly, and was surprised by a pale face staring right at him outside of the shop.

In fact, "surprised" would be an understatement.

"_What-!_" Michael gasped and stepped backward instinctively, startled enough to drop the vial, which broke into a hundred pieces as soon as it hit the floor. He could swear he was about to faint when the apparition reached out and knocked on the window, gesturing impatiently. It took the terrified young man a second or two, but he finally realized, with great incredulity, that it wasn't exactly an apparition.

Michael could read the lips of the impatient person outside saying something among the lines of "let me in, I'm _drowning_ out here," and, obediently as ever, the wizard hurried to the front door and opened it. In a matter of seconds, a man bursted into the house, his fancy green-white-and-blue suit as soaked as the strands of his blonde hair. "Shut the door," he croaked, without throwing Michael a second glance. The young man quickly obeyed, as he had done for most of his life, and when he turned to face the unexpected visitor again, the other man was still soaked - for his great surprise.

"Howl," Michael hesitated. "Won't you dry yourself...?"

The answer came as a growl and Wizard Howl collapsed onto an armchair nearby, staring at the opposite wall with such a pissed look that anybody could swear it had offended him.

Michael was quite sure he had never seen Howl looking that way before.

"What happened? What brought you here? I thought you and Sophie were in..."

Another growl, and Howl waved a hand impatiently, making Michael immediately shut up. He didn't have to use any magic for that; Michael himself knew very well how to behave when facing his old tutor's wrath.

"What happened? Nothing happened. What makes you think something happened? I'm as fine as I can be. Just passing by."

"In this rain?"

Howl ignored him. "Figured I should say hello to some good old friends I haven't seen in a while. I also heard Martha is pregnant. My congratulations."

"Ah, thank you," Michael said, and proceeded to stand there awkwardly for several seconds. "Did something happen?"

Howl growled a third time. "I told you! Nothing happened!" And then Michael knew something had happened.

"Well..." He looked around anxiously. "Where's Sophie?"

The answer, this time, came as a particularly weird look from Howl: nervous, guilty and angry, all at once. Michael seemed even more puzzled for a moment, but then it all made perfect sense to him.

"Did something happen to Sophie? Where is she?"

Howl muttered something, glancing at his wet shoes.

"Howl?"

"She is gone," Howl muttered a bit louder.

"What?"

"I said she is gone."

"Gone?" Michael frowned. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"I mean _gone!_" Howl was no longer muttering; his voice was perfectly loud and way too clear when he angrily stood up out of a sudden, making the frightened Michael back away immediately. "Gone! Gone, Michael, fancy an undeafening spell? A dictionary, maybe? Gone! She is gone! Sophie is gone! Gone, in which she left me for good! She - left me - for - _good!_" The thunders outside seemed to match Howl's words. Michael stared with wide eyes, and, while he was terrified of his old tutor's anger then, he became even more terrified when such anger was slowly replaced by low sobs and Howl buried his face in his own pale hands.

"She is gone," the older wizard's voice was weak and stifled by sobs. "She is gone, Michael!" He took a loud deep breath, so deep that Michael had the impression he was swallowing every bit of air there was in the room, and burst into tears. Michael feared he was going to burst into green slime anytime soon.

"Let's... get you some water," he gave Howl light and hesitant pats on the back, leading the miserable man upstairs. The whole house seemed to shake with each one of his sobs. "It's okay, it's okay..."

"It's not okay!" Howl suddenly shouted, startling Michael. "My wife leaves me and you say it's okay? Please, Michael! The pieces of my broken heart would be enough to fill ten bottles with Broken-Heart Powder! And you say it's okay? It's not okay in the slightest!"

"Oh, well, yes, okay, I mean, no, it's not okay," Michael tried to amend, and cringed when Howl threw him an irritated glance. "But it will be! Listen, let's just get you some water, alright?"

_Now, I wasn't expecting this_, Michael thought. He hadn't seen the man looking that miserable ever since the day Sophie completely ruined his hair, and that had been a day to remember. He was dying to ask Howl what he had done this time, but his common sense told him it would be the most indelicate thing to do in such situation. It would inevitably lead to him spending the rest of the day cleaning green slime off the walls and floor.

But Howl certainly must have done something really bad this time. Michael knew it was true; although Sophie always had something to complain about her husband's behavior, she seemed to be far more tolerant than anybody else could ever be, at least to an extent.

_Howl certainly must have gone too far this time._


	2. Green Slime, At Last

_A/N: Wow, long time no update! I apologize for being such a snail, and thank you guys for the nice comments! By the way, this is supposed to be set somewhere between Howl's Moving Castle and Castle in the Air, yes. Kind of. Sort of.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Trying to make Howl sit down proved to be a nearly impossible task. The sight of his dramatic self crying into the sleeves of his exaggeratedly fancy suit brought Michael not so pleasant memories, but this time it seemed like the older wizard really meant every sob. When he paused for a second to take a breath, Michael pushed a glass of water into his hands.<p>

"Come on now," the young man said, looking at Howl rather anxiously. "You have to drink something."

"I _do_ have to drink something," Howl retorted, looking at the glass rather bitterly. "But not water, that's for sure."

"I can fetch you some milk," Michael said, but judging from Howl's expression, milk wasn't exactly what he had in mind. With a sigh of frustration, Michael let his head hang and ran a hand through his hair, looking as helpless as ever. "Goodness, Howl. What did you do this time?" He noticed how the other wizard was glancing at the rain outside and drinking from the glass ever so slowly in order to gain some time. "Have you been chasing girls again?"

Howl gasped, greatly offended. "I have _not_!" He took a moment to sneeze into his sleeves. "Measure your words, Michael, my friend. You, more than anybody else, know that I'm a man who lives by his morals. I understand you might still be slightly resentful about Martha, but it was ages ago and I haven't laid my eyes on any other lady ever since. I assure you of that. And Calcifer can confirm it, if you still have your doubts. Calcifer, more than anyone, knows how much of a well-behaved, proper..."

"You are slithering out," Michael observed quietly.

"Oh, here we go again with this _slithering out_ thing," Howl sighed with impatience, setting the cup aside and sitting up straighter to glare at Michael. For a split second, the younger wizard could see what he figured were bags under his tutor's glassy green eyes. "Listen well, Michael, because I won't repeat myself. I didn't come here for you to blame me for things I have not done. I came here for emotional support, which you, being such a good friend of mine, certainly would not deny me in times of need. Am I correct?"

"Yes, but how do you expect me to support you if I don't..." Michael began, but Howl raised a hand, and the young man went silent again.

"See, I just need a moment to clear my mind, and then finally I'll figure things out on my own. You know Sophie. She can't live without me," Howl said, and, for Michael's surprise, flashed him an insecure smile. When Michael, puzzled, did not say a word, Howl nodded in encouragement, and the young man realized he was supposed to agree. "She can't live without me."

"Hmm," was all that came out of Michael's mouth. He wasn't sure if he wanted to agree with that. He wasn't sure if Sophie couldn't live without Howl. He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

The lack of response did nothing but aggravate the already heavy climate in the room. Howl's glassy eyes were wide with expectation, and, when the lightining bolt outside illuminated his face for another brief second, Michael realized that yes, yes those really were bags under his tutor's eyes. He probably hadn't slept properly in a while.

Finally, Howl chuckled joyfully and clapped his hands together. "Very funny! She can't live without me, Michael, my friend, my boy. No, she can't, nor would she ever. We all know that. It's universal knowledge."

There was another moment of silence, during which Howl looked around the room with a dreamy, nonchalant smile, as if contemplating the undeniable truth of what he had just said. One second later, however, not only Howl's smile had melted away, but what Michael's most feared did as well: the wizard's whole body started to assume the sticky, gross appearance of green slime.

"Good God, _Howl!_" Michael shouted and stood up immediately, taking hold of the mass of slime that now were Howl's arms as the man fell weakly to his knees. It was quite a miserable sight to see, indeed: the most powerful wizard of all Ingary, undoing himself into a puddle before his frightened apprentice. "Howl! Howl! Get a hold of yourself! For God's sake, Howl!" For the young man's terror, the situation seemed worse than it had ever been, and in no time the green slime covered not only his arms and clothes, but also the wooden floor and bed, creeping up the walls and escaping through the door. Howl's face could barely be seen when he finally fainted against Michael, who, as helpless, dirty and desperate as he could be, shouted at the top of his lungs for the only help he could think of: "_Martha!_"

* * *

><p>"Don't worry, I can handle it on my own."<p>

"Sure you can," retorted Martha, glaring at Howl with narrowed eyes. The wizard was sleeping soundly in their spare room's bed, covered by a particularly small blanket that left his ankles exposed. "Care to tell me what happened for him to ruin our room? It will take us weeks to get rid of that stupid slime. I still have green all over my clothes. Look at this!"

"It's complicated," Michael replied carefully. Indeed it was complicated. So complicated he had no idea of what was going on himself. "I'll explain later. You really need to rest now."

Martha blew a strand of hair away from her eyes in a very characteristic and annoyed manner. "I _will_," she said, before stomping out of the room. Michael noticed the small trail of slime that followed her steps, but decided not to mention it. Instead, he turned to look at Howl. "She's gone. You can stop pretending now." The other man did not answer. "Come on, Howl. I know you are awake. I'd dare say even Martha knew it." Still no answer. Michael sighed; dealing with Howl had always been much like dealing with a stubborn five-years-old, depressed or not. "Howl, please..."

"Be gone too, Michael," replied Howl from under the sheets. His voice was weak and miserable. "I have no need of your company at the moment."

"I think I deserve an explanation," Michael said, but, finding his words unfamiliarly demanding, quickly amended, "Please."

There was a long moment of silence, during which Michael remained as tense as he could be, expecting another slime explosion. This time, however, it did not happen.

"Well, we had a small argument."

"A... _small_ argument?"

He could feel Howl frowning in annoyance.

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Yes, _Michael_, a small argument."

"Oh."

Silence.

"About...?"

"That doesn't matter, Michael. Actually, to be honest, I don't remember. It was probably something unimportant and ordinary." _Or you were drunk_, Michael thought to himself, but did not dare to interrupt. Howl continued. "I don't know. It just spread from that, like weed. It grew, like a snowball. And in the end, I believe I might..." He paused, and Michael, for what seemed like the first time, could feel the weight of genuine guilt on his words. "I believe I might have been _a little _too harsh. I don't remember for sure, but I was, admittedly, a fool. People have limits, Michael. Even those who love you. Who knew?"

The young man watched the sheets move slightly as Howl chuckled weakly, with no joy at all; never had he felt so much pity for his tutor and friend before. "Well," he cleared his throat, hesitating momentarily. "Yes, they do, but... when they love you, they can always forgive you. Most of the time... I mean," Michael stammered and tried to amend himself, "Always, always forgive you."

"But what if she doesn't, Michael? What if she's had enough? I said she can't live without me, Michael, but it's the other way round, isn't it? The other way round? Oh, happily ever after. What a _joke_ it is!"

"Howl," Michael began, but paused. "Howl," he continued, in a firmer voice. "You're not one to give up so easily on anything. You... you never gave up on eating grapes when they were out of season even if you had to march your way to France to get some. And we are talking about grapes. Why would you give up so easily on something so important, then? I mean... on Sophie?" His voice trailed off. That was a godforsaken awful way to advice someone, but he hoped Howl would have somehow caught his drift. The older wizard definitely didn't seem to show any reaction to those words. "Sophie rescued your heart, didn't she? So, why can't you rescue hers too? In a more... metaphorical way... of speaking, of course..."

"Rescue her heart, you say?" Howl laughed dryly. "Rescue her heart! No one can rescue anything from Sophie if she doesn't want you to. That's just the way she is. Unwilling to bend, unwilling to break. I highly doubt she wants me to 'rescue her heart', Michael, given how angry she was. I thought she was going to set everything on fire. Well, she would have."

"I'm sorry, Howl, but... you were just as bad, or worse," Michael said quietly. "Doing the best you could to stop the prophecy, avoiding your fate at all costs... and even so, she did it. She did it, didn't she?"

Once again the silence filled the room. Michael waited eagerly for a reaction, but it did not come.

"I can't do this," Howl finally said, his voice almost a whisper.

Michael was caught by surprise. He was starting to believe the other man had fallen asleep. "You can't? How not?"

"I just can't, Michael. How do you expect me to rescue Sophie's heart?" The young man was about to interrupt, when Howl raised a hand from under the sheets. "When my best suit is covered in disgusting slime, and all I have to wear are your borrowed clothes, five sizes smaller than mine? This is no proper way to rescue a woman's heart, my friend. Keep that in mind." In a heartbeat, Howl shoved the sheets away from him and jumped out of bed, making his way to the closet. "You might need it with Martha one day."


	3. Out To Finding Finders

Convincing Howl to stand up and go after Sophie was a much easier job than Michael thought it would be, but convincing Howl that he would not need any company for that was downright impossible.

"Look at the bright side," said Howl, walking around the living room energetically, wearing a dark brown shirt and checkered green pants, both borrowed from Michael. He had worked a spell to make them his size, but the pants didn't turn out very well, so his ankles were left exposed in an almost ridiculous fashion. He didn't seem to mind it too much. "As a token of my appreciation for your company and friendship in such dark times, I'll teach you some interesting bits of greatly advanced magic while we are on our journey."

"I've learned advanced magic already," said Michael, sitting on an armchair with his usual anxious look. He was starting to regret ever opening the door for Howl. He watched while the other wizard stopped walking to glare dubiously at him, bending over to get something from the floor. It was with a certain surprise that Michael recognized the dry wart powder left from the ruined anti-acne potion. "Oh, about that..."

"If you were so fluent in advanced magic, you wouldn't be wasting your time with something as ordinary as anti-acne potions, now, would you? Sounds like I left a hole in your, I dare say, brilliant education, Michael, my friend," Howl said unimpressedly, throwing the powder over his shoulder. It turned into a bunch of small moths as soon as it touched the wall. Michael watched in awe as they flew above his head, and only after a moment took notice that Howl was kneeling before him, an alarmed look in his eyes. "Michael, _please_, for all that is and isn't sacred," he begged in a hurried whisper. "Look at me. A lost, _miserable_ man, down to his knees like a damned soul, _begging_ for his most loyal friend, the _only one _he would trust his _life_ with, to help him in times of trouble. Begging you, Michael. I am _begging you!_"

Michael gulped at the idea of Howl trusting his life with him. "You don't need me..." He began, but was interrupted.

"You're the only one who can come with me, Michael. Calcifer is unable to do so and honestly, I don't think he would even if he could. My sister wouldn't do much but blame me, tell me she doesn't need to take care of a grown-up man when she already has kids to raise." Howl paused and frowned. "Hell, when did I become surrounded by such difficult tempers? Either way. If I go on this alone, I'll probably end up crazy in no time. Do you want _that_ to happen?"

The idea of Howl going crazy was also gulp-worthy. "No, I don't, trust me... But I can't go either."

"No?_ How_ not? Give me one good reason, one single good reason for that. Go."

"Martha is pregnant," Michael said readily, deadpan. He thought it was actually pretty obvious. Howl merely waved a hand.

"Why, that is no problem at all! Hopefully we won't take too long, and she can go live with her mother for the time being. Problem solved. Anything else?"

"But I don't want to..." Michael's voice trailed off and he looked uneasily at the stairs. He meant to say he didn't want to miss the birth of his first child, or leave his lovely Martha on her own for the instance. But Howl thought he meant something different.

"Listen, I understand you've become a domestic husband who doesn't want to step outside and face the dangers of this big wild 'Marthaless' world, but this is not something we're doing for fun, Michael," Howl said solemnly. "This is deadly serious. And trust me, if Martha ever left you for good and you needed help fixing your marriage, I would be the first to volunteer. You know it very well."

Michael figured he really meant it, but didn't say a word. His hesitant eyes betrayed him, however, and not only Howl noticed it, but he also attempted at one final strike, putting on his most pitiful face.

"_Please?_"

Finally, Michael closed his eyes and let out a defeated sigh. That was all Howl needed to hear to open a wide, genuine smile.

"I knew I could always count on you," he said, quickly standing up. "Pray tell, do you happen to still have the seven-leagues boot I gave you as a loving wedding gift?"

Michael nodded quietly and stood up to search for the boot in his room. It was once again clean, for Howl had worked up a spell to remove the green slime in order to avoid Martha's rage, but even so it was quite a hard task to find the boot, hidden inside an old box under a pile of clothes. He might have taken a little longer than he had to, though; he was thinking on how to tell his wife he would have to leave her alone for a while. The thought of his lovely Martha having to go through the pain of giving birth without him being there to hold her hand it made him feel like a truly awful person.

Once he had the seven-leagues boot in hands, Michael marched to their spare room only to find Martha patiently folding the sheets of the bed where Howl was left after the unfortunate slime attack. When he softly called out "sweetheart", he was sweating and more anxious than ever.

From the living room, Howl could hear Michael and Martha arguing loudly. Actually, all he could really hear was Martha's voice, and an occasional "my love, please" from Michael. Martha was shouting things about how it was Howl's fault and Michael had absolutely nothing to do with it.

_She is quite right_, Howl caught himself thinking guiltily while searching for a proper map among Michael's notes. He didn't think about it too much though; instead, his thoughts traveled back to a much more important matter: _if I were Sophie, were would I hide?_ Knowing her like he did, she certainly would go somewhere he would have trouble finding, or wouldn't dream of checking. She had taken their seven-leagues boot with her, so it was safe to say she was far away from Ingary.

Howl was then distracted by a small wedding picture of both Martha and Michael hidden between the pages of a spellsbook. It did nothing to make him feel any better. In fact, he felt as though his heart had sunk down into a dark abyss.

"Let's get going," said Michael, coming down the stairs hurriedly with a bag in one hand and the seven-leagues boot in the other. Howl quickly stuffed the wedding picture inside one of his pockets for no reason and turned to face Michael; the young man looked as miserable as he could be. "Will you need a map?" He said as he walked towards the door, not looking at Howl.

"No," lied Howl, with a smile. "I know these lands like the palm of my own hand."

When they walked out and Michael threw a last glance at the house, Howl could swear the young man was about to burst into tears, but held on tight.

* * *

><p>It was a beautiful Wednesday afternoon and Porthaven was completely decorated with colorful flags and balloons. There certainly was a festival going on, but Howl couldn't quite remember which one.<p>

"So, where exactly are we going?" Michael asked. He had been completely silent for the past thirty minutes, and the sudden sound of his voice made Howl throw him a momentarily startled look, as though he had forgotten for a second the young man was still there.

"Well," Howl cleared his throat. "That's actually a pretty good question. I thought perhaps we could find a Finder."

Michael frowned. "Find a Finder?"

"That's what I said."

"And what _exactly_ are Finders?"

"They find people," Howl said absently, and Michael figured it would be useless to insist. Instead, he let his thoughts drive back to his poor, lovely Martha, sitting alone in their house, and felt even more like an awful person. When he snapped back to reality, they were leaving Porthaven and walking towards the fields. "This is the tricky thing about Finders," Howl said, walking ahead. His exposed ankles seemed more ridiculous than ever. "You have to find them if you want them to find people for you, and you can't ask a Finder to find another Finder. It's against their finding code. Plus, they change address every two full moons."

"Tricky indeed," Michael said. He was feeling tired already. Maybe Howl was right when he said Michael had become a domestic husband. He used to have a lot more energy before. "So we are going to find this Finder in this field?"

According to Howl, the Finder could be found in a small house nearby. They had to do a lot of walking through the field and Howl got lost a couple times, so they walked in circles for a good while. When they reached a cozy-looking yellow house, the sun was driving Michael insane and all he could think of was a glass of cold water. Not even Martha or Sophie were in his mind. Howl, except for the bags under his eyes, didn't seem tired at all; instead, he looked more determined than ever. Michael wondered if a stamina spell had something to do with it or it was all just about finding Sophie.

A few seconds after Howl reached out and ringed the bell, a short young lady opened the door. Actually, she wasn't just short; she was very, very short, like a child. Michael was glaring at her with a puzzled face, trying to figure out if she even reached his knees, when Howl spoke.

"Good afternoon," he said, with a pleasant enough smile. He looked at her much like he would look at an adorable small kid. "You must have heard of me already. My name is Howl Pendragon, and this is my assistant..._ friend_. This is my friend, Michael Fisher. I don't have an audition scheduled with Mrs. Ferston, but I need to see her urgently nonetheless, so would you be a dear and let us in?"

The short lady glanced at his exposed ankles, which didn't make him feel self-conscious in the slightest. Finally, she nodded and allowed them to come in. The house, which seemed very small on the outside, was as big as a palace on the inside, for Michael's wonder. Howl didn't seem any surprised by that. The room where they were standing was filled with a bunch of stargazing objects, and the ceiling was a transparent glass dome. Michael could see the blue sky outside, with a few spots drawn on the glass indicating what he thought were the location of various stars.

"Close your mouth, Michael," said Howl nonchalantly, although there was indeed a very small hint of anxiety in his voice. "They'll think you're some sort of oblivious peasant."

"Is this the same kind of magic we have in the castle?" Michael asked, and the way he looked at Howl resembled the curious young apprentice he once was.

"The size illusion? Not exactly," said Howl. "What Mrs. Ferston did here is very basic. Actually, even you could do something like that with a few instrunctions." Howl ignored how Michael's smile melted away. "The magic I used on the castle is a lot stronger and much more complicated. I had to use the strongest illusion spells multiple times. Mrs. Ferston can only _dream_..."

"One second! I'm coming!"

He was interrupted by the weirdly loud sound of steps, and a few seconds later a messy old Mrs. Ferston waltzed into the room from a door neither of them had noticed before. Mrs. Ferston was a tall and skinny old woman in a dark green dress with a permanently startled gaze and particularly fast for someone her age. She looked at the two men rather confused for a moment, but soon her lips curled up into a wide smile.

"Oh my!" She said, all smiles and wide shiny eyes. "If it isn't my dear, dear Howl. Charming as ever. What brings you here? And - goodness grief, my dear! Whatever happened to your pants?"

"They are all right, mrs. Ferston," Howl said. "It's a new fashion in Porthaven. But we are not here to talk about fashion. I need your help, and I need it as urgently as possible."

"Oh, do you?" Mrs. Ferston sat by the desk before them. Michael noticed a bunch of golden coins spattered over it, and wondered how much a finding would cost. _Nothing Howl couldn't pay_, he thought. "Do you need me to find a girl in particular, Howl, my dear?"

"I need you to help me finding my _wife_," Howl said with great emphasis. "Sophie Pendragon."

"Your wife?" Mrs. Ferston blinked at Howl with her wide startled eyes. "Oh dear! What happened? Was she kidnapped?"

Silence filled the room, and Michael glanced at Howl hesitantly. The older wizard's face was unreadable.

"Yes," he said at last.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" Mrs. Ferston quickly fetched one of the stargazing objects - a particularly odd and small telescope - while accidentally sending a bunch of papers to the floor. Michael felt the urge to reach out and organize them, but held himself back. "Kidnapped! What a disaster! Sophie Pendragon, you say?" She asked, using the instrument to look at the blue sky above. It took her a minute to scan. "No. No Sophie Pendragon anywhere here."

Howl closed his eyes briefly, with quite a painful look on his face.

"Try Sophie Hatter," the wizard muttered.

"Sophie Hatter," repeated Mrs. Ferston, scanning the sky once more. "Sophie Hatter, Sophie Hatter... Sophie Hatter... Oh! No, no Sophie Hatter here either."

Howl and Michael exchanged a quick puzzled look.

"No Sophie?" Michael asked. "Does it mean she is..."

"Mrs. Ferston," Howl interrupted, with a hint of frustration and impatience in his voice. "You are a well-trained Finder. And, as a well-trained Finder, you are supposed to _find_ people. What is this now?"

"My dear Howl," said Mrs. Ferston, setting the telescope down. "I am a well-trained Finder, but I'm not a Superior Finder. I can only find people who are located within a certain region."

"And what region would this be, may I ask?" Howl said, more and more impatient.

"Why, this world, of course," Mrs. Ferston said sweetly.

When Michael glanced up at Howl again, his eyes were as wide and startled as Mrs. Ferston's. Michael wasn't quite sure of what the Finder meant when she said Sophie was nowhere to be found in this world. He jumped to the conclusion that she was probably dead, but Howl, while shocked, didn't see to be the "my wife died" kind of shocked. It seemed to Michael he was the "you've got to be kidding me" kind of shocked.

"So you're saying she is in _another world?_" Howl said, but didn't give Mrs. Ferston time to answer. Instead, he brought both hands to his face and let out a loud growl of frustration. "She is in _another world!_ God _damn!_"

"I'm so very sorry, my dear," Mrs. Ferston said. "Kidnappers these days... so daring! Would you want me to fetch the..."

"No, I would not, thank you," Howl said. "Where can I find a Superior Finder?"

"You can't, my dear. They are all dead, and we haven't found another one yet. It's against our finding code to find other Finders, you know it."

"Oh, that's superb!"

For a moment Michael thought Howl was going to burn the whole house down, but he didn't. Instead, he thanked Mrs. Ferston a bit too aggressively, paid her and dragged the confused Michael outside with him.

"Howl," Michael said, "what did she mean with that?"

"She meant that not only I _might have_ made a big mistake, but Sophie is also a stubborn, reckless, devil-may-care woman who lives with the single purpose of making my life a _hell_."


End file.
